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The Language of Crisis Metaphors Frames and Discourses 1St Edition Mimi Huang Online Ebook Texxtbook Full Chapter PDF
The Language of Crisis Metaphors Frames and Discourses 1St Edition Mimi Huang Online Ebook Texxtbook Full Chapter PDF
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The Language of Crisis
Mimi Huang
Northumbria University, UK
Lise-Lotte Holmgreen
Aalborg University, Denmark
doi: 10.1075/dapsac.87
ISBN: (ebook)
Cataloging-in-Publication Data available from Library of
Congress:
LCCN 2019057625
©–
John Benjamins Publishing Company · https://benjamins.com
Mimi Huang
Carter had entered the lower hall of the house without making any
noise.
The woman’s attention was not attracted toward him, so he stood
back in the shadow and watched her.
She reached the landing, and, stopping in front of the door of the
back room, she inserted a key in the lock, opened the door and went
in.
Nick knocked on the door of the room.
The woman opened the door.
“What do you want?” she demanded, in surprise.
“Is your name Lena Peters?” the detective asked.
“It is.”
“I want to talk with you.”
Carter pushed his way into the room without ceremony, and closed
the door.
The woman’s face became flushed with anger. She stepped back
from the detective, and her eyes flashed.
“What do you want?” she demanded, with a string of oaths, and she
pulled out of her pocket a small pistol.
“Don’t get excited,” Carter quietly said, with a scornful smile. “Put up
your pistol, Lena. I’m not going to harm you.”
“Who are you?”
“I will tell you in a few moments.”
“You are a stranger to me.”
“I guess not.”
As Carter said this, he pulled off his disguise.
Lena uttered a scream, and sank down into a chair.
“Nick Carter!” she gasped, and the pistol fell from her grasp into her
lap.
“You recognize me now?” the detective said, with a smile, as he sat
down.
From this it will be seen that he and the woman had met before.
After a pause, Carter remarked:
“Let me see, Lena, it is several years since we have had the
pleasure of meeting. You haven’t changed any since I last saw you.”
“No,” Lena stammered.
“At that time you were singing at the Empire, on the Bowery, if my
memory does not play me false.”
“Yes.”
“A Western divine was robbed in the place of a large sum of money,
and you were charged with the theft. It was a cowardly charge. I
investigated the case——”
“And you found out that I was innocent.”
“Right.”
“Only for you, I might have been sent to prison.”
“Correct.”
“I——”
“Lena?”
Carter paused, and looked straight into the woman’s eyes.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I want you to give me some information.”
“Mr. Carter, I have always declared that if I could ever do you a favor
for what you did for me I would do it.”
“Now is your chance.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Are you acquainted with a man named Dick Darwin?”
“Yes—why——”
“You have called on him a number of times?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“He has a room in the Studio Building, at the corner of Twenty-sixth
Street and Broadway.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Only a few weeks.”
“How did you become acquainted with him?”
“I——”
Lena hesitated. She looked at the detective, and her face turned
pale.
Carter kept his eyes riveted upon her.
“Lena,” he said, “you must not try to conceal anything from me.”
“Mr. Carter, did Darwin employ you?” Lena asked.
“No. Why?”
“I just wanted to know.”
“What if he had employed me?”
“I am unable to say.”
Lena moved about uneasily in her chair.
Carter kept still.
He was giving the woman plenty of time to think.
There was no need to hurry, for he was confident that he would get
out of her all the information he desired.
“Mr. Carter, what do you know about Dick Darwin?” Lena finally
blurted out.
“Very little,” the detective replied. “I want to learn what you know
about him.”
“You are as sphinxlike as ever.”
“I have to be.”
Another silence followed.
Lena arose from her chair and walked back and forth across the
room several times. She resumed her seat again.
“I will tell you everything!” she exclaimed.
“That is right,” the detective said, in an encouraging tone.
Lena leaned back in her chair, and for some moments she sat with
head bowed.
At length she looked up at the detective, and said:
“I had a brother, whose name was Edward Peters.
“He was employed by a Mrs. Porter, who lived on Fifth Avenue.
“About ten years ago he was stabbed in the back, and he died in
Bellevue Hospital.
“I always believed that some one murdered him, although I could
never secure any evidence to prove it.
“He had for a chum a man named George Blanchard.
“Blanchard also died in the hospital.
“Previous to his death he made some kind of a confession to my
brother in regard to a will case.
“I tried to get out of my brother what the confession was about, but
he would not tell me.